


Masks

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode: s02e10 Noël, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-23
Updated: 2006-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: This is a companion piece to Laurel's piece, "Roles"





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

This is a companion piece to Roles, by Lalden.  
Masks by Michelle H.

Title: Masks 1/1  
Author: Michelle  
Rating: PG, a little swearing  
Spoilers: Noel  
Author's notes: This is a companion piece to Laurel's piece, Roles.  
Here's to Laurel, beta-reader extraordinaire, who inspires me to  
abandon life and other whatnot to work on fanfic. And to the others  
(they know who they are) for the inspiration and clarity. Cheers, hail,  
Etc.  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Don't sue.  
Summary: Josh muses...

Donna was the one who guessed.

I can't even begin to tell you how pleased that makes me. I guess I  
think this is pleased. I'm a little rusty. Today is the first day in  
weeks I've felt anything other than sheer misery.

God, it's a relief. But it's not over yet.

I've come to rely on Donna a lot over the years and the thought of her  
being oblivious to my pain was actually--painful. All she did was go on  
and on about Yo Yo Ma.

If I hadn't been so miserable, it would have been--cute. But I was  
miserable. We shouted at each other. I treated her badly.

I can be a real asshole.

So I'm talking to Leo about rectangles and eating disorders, and trying  
to not get all misty eyed while he tells me my job is secure, and all  
the while I'm thinking about what an asshole I was to Donna. I guess I  
wear a lot of masks around here.

Egotistical-Asshole is one that suits me well. I guess, sadly, it's  
what people have come to expect.

Megalomaniacal-Tyrant is in the same vein, but it's mainly  
administrative. I can be an Egotistical-Asshole anywhere. At work, at  
the grocery store, in my car. It's convenient. When I don't know what  
to do, or I feel helpless, or I'm faced with a pack of rabid  
Republicans, I just fall back on Egotistical Asshole.

It works for me.

Okay, now and then it gets me into trouble, too. Like now, with  
Donna. I've been an asshole to everyone lately, but I'm mainly  
concerned about Donna. But she was the one who guessed.

Damn, I occasionally underestimate her.

Okay, I constantly underestimate her. She has me trained well.

The mask I always try to wear is, of course,  
Charming-Witty-and-Handsome-Political-Strategist.

It's the mask I wish I was able to show Donna more often.

I try so hard. But some people wheedle their ways in and see beyond my  
visage, beyond both Egotistical-Asshole and  
Charming-Witty-and-Handsome-Political-Strategist. What they see are the  
other masks. The ones that are more personal. The ones that are more  
real, although I don't know if anyone's ever seen the real Joshua Lyman.

Who is the real Joshua Lyman, anyway?

I don't even think I know. I suppose my mother and Donna have come the  
closest to seeing it. Whatever it is.

I wonder if Donna knows me better than I know myself. The possibility  
should scare me. I wonder why it doesn't.

Donna.

She's standing there, waiting patiently to take me to have my hand  
looked at. On Christmas Eve.

God, what have I done? Donna deserves to be with her family, not  
hauling me off to the hospital to have my hand swathed in Anti-biotic  
ointment.

For the first time in weeks, I allow her to control me. I allow her to  
lead me away.

She was, after all, the one who guessed. Donna and my mother have seen  
the masks that don't come out as often, like Good-Friend. Loving-Son.

Red-Hot-Sex-Machine.

Okay, so neither Donna nor my mother (thank God for that) can testify  
about the last one. But the people who've been there can tell you.

Okay, I don't know for sure. I'm just saying. I haven't had any  
complaints. I find it slightly disturbing that the people who honestly  
know me well don't know about my sexual prowess.

That doesn't say much for the ones who do.

Anywho.

I step forward, with my Charming-Witty-and-Handsome-Political-Strategist  
guise in place, and head off towards Donna's car.

It's going to be a long night.

  


End file.
